


we've got no money but we've got heart

by salazarsslytherin



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Blowjobs, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Early Days, Fluff and Smut, M/M, pre-fame, they're poor and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24824365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazarsslytherin/pseuds/salazarsslytherin
Summary: They're not famous, they have no money, their flat leaks, but they wouldn't have it any other way.
Relationships: Brian May/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 20
Kudos: 85





	we've got no money but we've got heart

**Author's Note:**

> random domestic fic because i just adore this young pre-fame era so much.
> 
> title is from 'anna sun' by walk the moon which is young maycury as fuck.

It’s late on a bitterly cold night in November when Brian finally steps through the door to their flat, out of breath from having to scale the four flights of stairs (the elevator is broken, and has been since they moved in) and shivering from the chill outside.The flat smells incredible when he steps inside, though, quickly shutting the door on the cold out in the hallway, trying to keep what little heat they have in.

“Freddie?” Brian calls, dumping his bag inside the door and kicking off his shoes.Although the place smells great, it’s _very_ unusual for Freddie to have cooked, even more unusual for him to have cooked and the smoke alarm to not be going off, so Brian’s a little concerned.“What’s cooking, b—?” _Babe_ nearly rolls off his tongue before he catches himself in case Jer has popped round, hence the delicious smell.

Freddie pops out of the kitchen with a big grin and one of his painting aprons on, bounding over to Brian to give him a hello kiss, so presumably his mother _isn’t_ round.

“Sorry, darling, I didn’t hear you come in,” Freddie tells him, taking his hand and pulling him through to the kitchen.“Mum came by earlier, she brought some curry for us.I’m warming it up now.”

Brian turns a suspicious eye to the hob.“You didn’t try to cook any rice, did you?” he asks nervously.

Freddie laughs.“No, no, I’ve left that to you,” he assures him.“And Mum told me what to do with this,” he adds, nudging the oven with his toe, “so you’re in safe hands.”

Brian snorts softly, fetching the dwindling bag of rice from the high cupboard so he can get it started.“Even with step by step instructions you nearly managed to burn the old flat down trying to boil an egg,” Brian tells him, amused (amused _now_ ; at the time it had been less funny and he’d yelled at Freddie and Roger for a solid hour).“We’re going to need more rice soon.”And pasta and teabags and bread and maybe even some _fruit_.With what money, Brian has no fucking clue; they’re still two weeks before the end of the month with barely a penny between them.“Do you have anything new to sell on the stall?”

“Oh, I do, actually!” Freddie says happily.“We got some boxes earlier, and Mum had a few things she brought round that she doesn’t want any more.I’ll show you.”

He leaves Brian to get the rice on to boil as he bounds off and returns lugging a box with old and decaying lace sleeves flopping out of the top.

Brian arches an eyebrow at it, turning to lean against the counter.“More rubbish?” he guesses.

Freddie shoots him a look so offended he looks like a trodden-on cat for a second.“It’s not _rubbish_ , Bri, you simply have no _taste_ ,” he says snippily.“Just look at this.”He pulls one of the shirts out, carefully because it looks like a stiff wind might blow it to tatters, and holds it up against his chest.“Just _gorgeous_ ,” he says, putting on a salesman voice, “and _genuine Edwardian lace_.This is a _unique_ antique rescued from the home of Lady...Margaret, ah...Briarry, after her tragic death and for just _three pounds_ it could be yours.”

Brian can’t help but laugh at him.“ _Three pounds_?” he says, shaking his head.“You’re mad.That thing’s probably infected with the Black Plague, not to mention all the fleas you’ve probably brought in here.”

“Three pounds,” Freddie repeats as though he hasn’t heard, gently setting it back in the box.“It’s a bargain, my dear, a must-have.”

“It’s an absolute rip off is what it is,” Brian tells him, turning around for a second to stir the rice.“But if you can sell all that crap and stop us from starving to death then I’m all for it.”

Freddie offers him a quick smile when Brian turns back.“We’ll be alright,” he says bracingly.They always are.

Brian’s not so sure.Freddie needs new paint, he has coursework looming that he doesn’t have the supplies for no matter how many times he tells Brian he’s been meaning to try using unusual media, and Brian’s latest school placement is further out, more expensive on the bus.

“How was work anyway, darling?” Freddie asks, sitting down at the table and peering at Brian from over the top of his box of charity shop rejects.“You’re back late.”

“I know, sorry, I had to get some lessons planned,” Brian says, putting a lid on the saucepan and joining Freddie at the table.“I had to send a boy out for using some horrendous language in the classroom this morning and I had two children try to kill each other with scissors after that.”

“Oh, darling,” Freddie sighs.“You need to get out of there.”

Brian shrugs.“The money’s good.I’ve got a meeting on Friday, actually, I’ll be late then, too.I think they’ll offer me Andrea’s maternity cover.”

Freddie’s torn and Brian can see it all over his face.He knows what he wants to say; the school is terrible, the money for the bus is a lot more each week, Brian hates working there.But it’s steady money, something reliable for the next nine months and they could really do with that.

“Will you take it?” Freddie asks eventually. 

Brian gets up to stir the rice as he stalls for time, giving a little sigh.“Probably, yeah.It’d do us good to have something to rely on, Fred.”

“I could pick up some bar work,” Freddie suggests quickly.“To cover us.You could look for something closer to here, or back out towards our parents’ way.The schools aren’t so bad there.”

“Freddie,” Brian says gently, abandoning the rice and turning to him to run a hand through his hair.“I don’t want you working a second job, don’t be silly.You need to focus on your course.”

“ _You’re_ supposed to be doing a PhD,” Freddie counters.

“Part time,” Brian reminds him by rote—this is a conversation they have nearly every month.“I can manage it.”

Freddie looks horribly sad for a moment and it breaks Brian’s heart.He leans down, capturing his face in both hands and cradling him, kissing him softly.“Freddie?What’s the matter, love?”

Freddie just shakes his head.“You shouldn’t have to _manage_ ,” he says thickly.“Working in a school like that.Never getting time to work on your thesis.Us barely scraping by each month.”There’s a hitch in his chest that physically pains Brian to hear and he immediately pulls Freddie against his chest, hugging him tightly.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers, rubbing his back.“Please believe me, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Freddie goes to pull back, disbelief on his face, but Brian holds tight.

“I mean it,” he says firmly.“If it was a choice between living in a _mansion_ with servants and cars and a private chef, or being here with _you_ , counting our pennies every week...I wouldn’t change a thing.You hear me?Not a thing.Living here with you is the happiest I’ve ever been, Freddie.I love it.I love _you_.”

Freddie sniffs hard, trying to pull himself together.“I’ll get everything sold as soon as I can,” he promises.

Brian smiles.“You’ll have a hard time with that lot of rubbish,” he teases gently.“But if anyone can do it, it’s you.I love you,” he says again, because he loves saying it and because he knows how much Freddie loves hearing it, how much Freddie _needs_ to hear it.“Now c’mon, you’re the one who’s always saying we’re going to make it.Where’s that attitude gone?”

“We _are_ going to make it,” Freddie mumbles, though he doesn’t sound as certain of that as he usually does.“As soon as we find a bloody bassist who can actually play.”

Brian sighs as he pulls back, turning back to the rice.“God, don’t remind me.”He’d honestly thought Freddie might beat the last guy with his mic-stand after he’d pranced across half the stage and stolen the limelight for the entire show, while _not_ playing his bass.Needless to say, he’d not played a second show with them.

“Have you put that new ad up yet?”

Brian shakes his head.“Not yet.I need to pop into uni on Sunday, though, I’ll do it then.” 

His back is turned but he can _feel_ the sad look Freddie shoots him before he hears the soft, “Sunday?”.Because Sundays, at least, are usually _theirs_ to do with as they please, which doesn’t usually amount to _much_ , what with the lack of money, but they spend the time well.Morning sex, listening to records, fucking some more, window shopping (always at Freddie’s behest), afternoon sex, sometimes the cinema if one of Freddie’s friends is working.Time they get to spend _together_.

Brian takes the rice off the heat and drains the water off.“It won’t be for long,” he promises.

“But it’s a Sunday,” Freddie says, getting up to get plates out even before Brian prompts him.

“It won’t be for long,” Brian says again.“It’s the only time Richard has free, I need to run something for my thesis by him.”

And Freddie understands, he does, but he’s still put out by it.He’s pouting when they sit down at the table and Brian chuckles at him, kicking their feet together between them.“Oh cheer up, baby,” he coaxes, amused. 

“You’re the worst boyfriend,” Freddie tells him over his curry.

Brian grins, unoffended.“What if I get you a surprise while I’m out?”

Freddie’s intrigued.“What sort of surprise?”

“A _surprise_ ,” Brian reiterates sternly.Freddie adores presents in all forms so it’s a sure way of winning him over and it works like a charm. 

They finish off dinner while Freddie tells Brian about a saxophonist he’d seen busking in town earlier and wonders if they should incorporate some brass into their records, which Brian counters by assuring him he can recreate basically any of those sounds with his guitar and gets up to prove it once they’re done.

He heads to what passes off to any visitors as _his_ room—they both share the master bedroom but most people don’t know that, so the tiny second bedroom has a bed crammed in and a few token items of clothing strewn about to make it look lived in—and fetches the Red Special before carrying it back.

Freddie spends an hour sprawled across the sofa while Brian picks at his guitar and fiddles with a crackly half-built amp turned down low, trying to tease the right noises out.There are still wires and bits of electronics boards all over the place where Brian’s been pulling the thing apart to rebuild it but it seems to work well enough, even incomplete.

Freddie’s almost stopped listening to the music, just taking Brian in instead.The concentration on his face, the deft way his fingers move along the strings and fretboard, turning dials on the speaker, moved by some deep instinct that Freddie never thought he’d find in someone else.But it’s here, in Brian, inside their tiny, shitty flat in London, in a shared glance over a drawn-out note that doesn’t really sound at all like a real saxophone but like something completely new, entirely theirs.

Brian grins at Freddie, then ruins it.

“Don’t forget it’s your turn to do the dishes tonight,” he says as he lifts his fingers off the strings, stretching his back out where he’s been hunched over the Red Special for so long.

Freddie groans and sinks further down on the sofa.“Darling!” he protests.“I _provided_ dinner!”

“Your _mother_ provided dinner,” Brian corrects.

Freddie pouts.Those curry dishes are an absolute bitch to clean and the pan that had the rice in has been sat out on the side for a while now, long enough for the last remaining grains to stick fast to the sides and require scraping off, the little bastards.

Freddie considers throwing a strop about it but that’s never been how to get his own way with Brian.

“Bri,” he says instead, coyly looking up at him from among the cushions as Brian sets his guitar aside. 

“Mm?”

“If you do the dishes for me tonight I’ll blow you after.”

Brian pauses.“Properly?”

Freddie pretends to consider for a moment but the choice between scrubbing out those dishes and letting Brian finish in his mouth is a no brainer.“Hmm...I will if you make me an Earl Grey as well,” he bargains.

Brian doesn’t even hesitate.“Done,” he says, and darts out into the kitchen while Freddie grins, pleased with himself, stretching out like a cat as he relaxes.

He doesn’t get very long.The speed at which Brian cleans up in the kitchen leads Freddie to believe the job may have been done a bit haphazardly because he reappears not fifteen minutes later with two cups of tea in hand and an excited flush on his face.

Freddie can’t help but laugh.“Did you even _wash_ the dishes?”

“Course I did,” Brian retorts, putting Freddie’s cup down on the rickety coffee table rather than straight into his waiting hands. 

“Can’t I have my tea first?”

“Tea after,” Brian grins, unzipping his jeans and pitching forward as Freddie grabs his hips and hauls him down to sit on the sofa before sliding onto his knees on the floor.

Brian grabs a cushion for him to kneel on and reaches over Freddie’s head for his own cup of tea, settling back and sipping smugly as Freddie tugs his jeans down.

“Fuck,” Brian sighs happily, before Freddie’s even touched him.“Been ages since we did this.”

Freddie arches an eyebrow.“Bri, you had your dick in my mouth not two nights ago!”

“That was just foreplay, not a proper one.Doesn’t count,” Brian says resolutely, lifting his hips a bit and letting go of his cup with one hand to help get his underwear out of the way.

Freddie snorts, privately disagreeing, and arranges the cushion under his knees so they don’t bruise.

Brian’s cock is hot in his hand as he frees it, already quite stiff, and he gives it a few strokes until Brian nudges his shoulder with his knee.“A _blowjob_ , you said,” he reminds him.

“Patience is a _virtue_ ,” Freddie reminds _him_ , but Brian’s knee is insistent against his shoulder so he bends forward to close his mouth around the tip of Brian’s cock, sucking gently until Brian’s fully hard on his tongue. 

Brian sighs and there’s a quiet thump, which Freddie realises is his head hitting the back of the sofa as he relaxes into it, his legs falling further open.He’s still got his tea in his hand, currently being ignored. 

Freddie hopes his own won’t get too cold and, with that motivation, carefully takes more into his mouth, easing Brian into his throat and focusing on keeping his jaw relaxed. 

They do do this quite a lot as foreplay but Freddie usually only has it in his mouth for a handful of seconds then, it doesn’t take long for Brian to want to fuck him properly, so he has to concentrate on doing a good job here. 

He closes his eyes and can’t just let instinct take over because he has to think about it, pressing his palm against his own crotch as he purses his lips and moves his tongue, listening to the sounds Brian makes and letting those guide him.He likes it when Freddie curls his tongue up, groans low in the back of his throat, and Freddie does it again and again, ignoring the way his jaw’s already starting to ache. 

He times his breathing carefully as he takes more, as much as he can manage without making himself gag too much, but Brian’s doing his _thing_ where he distracts himself to draw it out.

Freddie can tell because he can hear him muttering to himself and when he strains his eyes to glance at him, Brian’s determinedly looking at the ceiling.They both know that when he watches Freddie do this he never lasts long. 

“Bri,” Freddie says crossly, pulling off.“Stop holding out on me, my tea’s going cold.”

“Drink it quickly now, then,” Brian says, not apologetic in the least.“That pan was a nightmare to clean, you know.”

Freddie rolls his eyes.“It took you all of five minutes,” he points out, grabbing his tea and taking a big sip, dispelling some of the salty taste Brian’s began to leak across his tongue.It’s still hot, thankfully—he has some time.

Brian’s legs both jump as Freddie’s mouth closes around him once again and he sits up straighter, groaning.“Oh, _fuck_ Fred, your mouth’s so hot,” he gasps, grabbing Freddie’s hair and pulling him closer.

Freddie moans himself and quickly tries to adjust, wriggling his head to give Brian the hint, which he thankfully picks up and tugs a bit harder before pulling him right off.

Freddie frowns at him, confused, and Brian just leans over his head for Freddie’s tea cup.

“More, have another sip, that felt _so_ good,” Brian says roughly, pushing the cup at him.

Freddie laughs, pleased with himself, and happily drinks more of his tea.Brian’s flushed pink and his eyes have that bright, glazed look that Freddie knows and loves, the look that always makes him feel like the sexiest thing on the planet. 

He hands his cup back to Brian, who’s left holding both with no hands to pull Freddie’s hair but it doesn’t matter; his toes curl down by Freddie’s knees and he lets out a long, low moan as Freddie sucks him long and slow, from root to head with an innocent little kiss to the tip, and that does it.

Some of the tea spills on the cushions, Brian’s hands unable to keep still as he comes without even a polite word of warning, hard and fast, spilling on Freddie’s lips even though Freddie really does try to keep it all very clean and tidy.

He pulls off and wipes his lips and chin on Brian’s jeans—he’s too blissed out to care, riding the after-shocks—and quickly swallows what’s still in his mouth before wresting his tea back and wriggling into Brian’s lap.

“Well _that_ was over rather quickly,” he laughs, feeling accomplished.He takes a big, grateful gulp of his tea; Freddie doesn’t mind how Brian tastes and can usually talk himself into finding it arousing if they’re about to fuck but there’s no denying that the Earl Grey is far superior.

Brian grunts wordlessly at the jibe but slowly opens his eyes.“Just then you thought I was holding out on you,” he points out without heat.“Make your mind up.”

“You _were_ holding out on m- _mmm_ , fuck,” Freddie cuts himself off, carefully cradling his tea as Brian sticks his hand into the front of his trousers to return the favour. 

“You’re so good at doing that,” Brian breathes, kissing Freddie’s neck while Freddie tries hard to keep his grip on his tea, shivering pleasurably.“That thing with the tea...we _have_ to do that again.”

Freddie groans, tipping his head down onto Brian’s shoulder.He’s not going to last long after blowing Brian but he enjoys it lazily, slowly breathing in the scent of Brian’s aftershave and the faint sweat of the day. 

“I hope you’re prepared to do a hell of a lot of dishes, then,” he says, and sighs with relief as Brian squeezes him just the way he likes, clinging to him as he finishes over Brian’s fingers.

They stay like that after, Freddie straddling Brian’s lap with his head on his shoulder, Brian’s jeans sticky with both of their come as he wipes his hand off on his thigh, and Freddie’s tea does eventually go cold before he can stir himself to drink it.

Brian’s right, though.They don’t have enough money spare to buy the records they want or nicer curtains for the bedroom, their landlord won’t fix the leak in the kitchen and they’re going to keep having to be careful to count every penny of every food shop.But Freddie wouldn’t have it any other way, either.

Because this is all he really needs.Just the two of them, and a place where they can be together.Everything else is just extra. 


End file.
